


Attack Of The Ice Cream Ghoul (Though Not Really…)

by tattooeddevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Halloween, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 19:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2553512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Seriously, I think we dodged it this year.”</p>
<p>“Really, Dean? Why don’t you add a ‘what can possibly go wrong’ to that?”</p>
<p>He expected a thunder clap or a sudden hole to appear in the ground or something, anything to immediately prove Dean’s words completely wrong. They were never this lucky, especially on Halloween.</p>
<p>But nothing happened.</p>
<p>He waited a full minute. Still nothing.</p>
<p>Five minutes. Nothing. Dean was starting to look smug.</p>
<p>“Told you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack Of The Ice Cream Ghoul (Though Not Really…)

“Seriously, I think we dodged it this year.”

“Really, Dean? Why don’t you add a ‘what can possibly go wrong’ to that?”

He expected a thunder clap or a sudden hole to appear in the ground or something, anything to immediately prove Dean’s words completely wrong. They were never this lucky, **especially** on Halloween.

But nothing happened.

He waited a full minute. Still nothing.

Five minutes. Nothing. Dean was starting to look smug.

“Told you.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV. They were watching some old horror movie that Sam didn’t know, but Dean had deemed a classic (“Seriously Sammy, you’re such an uncultured swine!” “Just because I don’t know some obscure b-movie from a hundred years ago?” “It’s _Nosferatu_ , everybody knows _Nosferatu_!” “Well, I don’t.” “That’s because you’re a geek who would rather stick his nose in books than watch awesome movies that sends any cute girl into his arms to cower.” “Shut up, Dean.”)

“Yeah yeah, whatever Dean.”

He could practically **feel** Dean’s smugness radiating at him from the other end of the ratty motel couch. If Sam hadn’t grown up with it, it would have seriously irritated him. As it were, he simply employed the never-failing ‘ignore-and-it-will-stop’ tactic.

It worked for about three minutes.

“Seriously, you should just start listening to me more. I am always right.”

While he usually tried - and succeeded - to not let Dean rile him up, he couldn’t help but turn his head and gape at him. “You are always right?! You’re kidding, right?”

Dean had the audacity to look at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Yes! I mean, no! I am not kidding! I am always right!”

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, entirely flabbergasted and utterly lost for any kind of response that would accurately express how incredibly far from the truth that statement was. He settled for more gaping.

_”We interrupt this program for an emergency message from the Maine Police Department. Regarding the recent disappearances of June Williams and Matthew Garret, and the sighting of a large cat-like animal, we ask that all families in the Ocean Park area keep their children inside at all times. Eyewitness reports have led us to believe the animal is dangerous and should be avoided at all cost. The Maine Police Department and the local Ocean Park police force are working tightly together to hunt this animal and bring it in as soon as possible. We cannot confirm nor deny any connection between the animal and the missing children, but--”_

“Ocean Park. Are we not in Ocean Park?”

Sam nodded, staring at the blurry picture of what the Maine PD thought was a large white cat on the tiny black and white TV set. “Yeah.” He paused in thought. “Cat-like animal, that’s a strange way of phrasing it, isn’t it?”

Dean didn’t seem half as interested in Maine PD’s emergency message if his bored one-shouldered shrug was anything to go by. “You’ve met the Ocean Park police force, Sammy. None too bright. Probably can’t even recognize a house cat when they trip over one.”

But Sam wasn’t convinced. “No no no, I don’t think so. This comes from the state police, not just the local sherrifs here in town. They’d have made sure it wasn’t just someone’s larger-than-normal pet.”

He stood up to grab his laptop from his duffle bag. “Cat-like animal. That could be anything. What looks like a cat and kidnaps young children?”

That seemed to get Dean’s attention, if only to mock him. “You think this is something supernatural? Come on, Sammy, it’s just some freak with a penchant for kids and someone’s too fat cat. Nothing we deal with.”

Sam glanced at Dean, momentarily hesitant. Maybe he was jumping the gun. Just because the world wasn’t ending for a change and they hadn’t been on a proper hunt in weeks and daytime TV had gotten even worse since the last time he caught more than ten agonizing minutes and--

Yeah, he was overreacting. Cabin fever.

He slid his laptop back in his duffle and made a show of relaxing back in the couch. He refused to acknowledge Dean’s triumphant smirk. They were going to enjoy the quiet, watch whatever horrible movie Dean wanted to watch, and maybe even get an early night. Halloween-Smalloween.

Dean’s smirk stayed on his face even when he fell asleep a few hours later, the “I told you so” clear as day. Sam elected to ignore it a bit longer. Preferably forever.

It lasted about three hours, but not for lack of trying. Sam got rudely shocked from his sleep by his brother’s pillow landing on his head. Momentarily disoriented, he wrestled the fluffy thing until it was trapped under him, knife pressed against its--

“Nice reflexes, Sammy. Now do you think you could let the pillow go? You can’t blame it for wanting to smother you, we’ve all had that urge.”

Sam refused to blush. “Shut up, Dean.” He wrestled the pillow from under him and lobbed it at Dean’s head. “What time is it?”

“Dunno. Late. Four-ish?”

Sam groaned. “Jesus, why the **hell** are you up?”

By way of answer, Dean shoved his cellphone in Sam’s face. “Read this.”

Sam pushed Dean’s hand away with another groan, but started sitting up anyway. If he knew his brother - and he did - he knew it was only a matter of time until Dean employed his more annoying tricks to get Sam out of bed and paying attention to whatever had crawled up his ass.

So maybe Sam was a grumpy bastard when woken from a nice, deep sleep.

When he was fully sitting up, sheet draped over his naked lap, hair probably sticking up like that of a scarecrow, He flapped a hand at Dean. “Gimme.”

It was a police scanner text alert (“When did you have time to set this up?” “It’s an app, Sammy.” “I know. But how do _you_ know?” “Jesus, Sammy, I’m not a retard. I know how to download an app.” “Really? Because I seem to remember a time when you didn’t even know what MySpace was.” “ Shut up.”)

“Another missing kid? In the middle of the night?” 

“It’s a teenager this time. Apparently on his way back from a bar with his friends. They decided to stop for ice cream at that 24-hour ice cream place on the edge of town when he went to the toilet and disappeared.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Okay, two questions. One, how do you know all this? And two, how is this any of our business? You said it yourself, probably some sick dude kidnapping kids.”

Dean shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much.” He glared at Sam before he could even open his mouth. “Shut it, I got enough.” Sam swallowed his words, but filed the worrying information away for later. Dean not sleeping was not a good sign, he **always** slept well. “Anyway, I called the local squad and got the info from them.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you did all that. **And** rudely dragged me from my sleep over something you didn’t think was anything supernatural before. You are always right, remember? Or are you seriously admitting you’re wrong?”

Dean glared at him some more, but Sam knew he had him. He let Dean stew in it for a few more seconds before taking pity and humouring him. “Fine, let’s go then. Ice cream at four thirty am it is.”

Dean smirked. “Pack a couple of spoons, I’m hungry.”

Sam was still rolling his eyes and mentally face-palming when they got to the ice cream parlor. There was a handful of police officers milling about, but no spectators or stragglers. Too late. Or early. Whichever it was, Sam was glad for it. Less people meant less prying eyes to see that maybe they weren’t checking the crime scene the way normal FBI agents would. They local squad wouldn’t be an issue, they didn’t even look at their badges before letting them through tiredly.

“Glad you’re here, agents. We’re stumped, maybe you can shed some light on what is going on around here.”

Sam got the full story from the cop (three kids disappeared, all from this side of town, no witnesses or evidence left behind apart from a trail of huge paw prints) while Dean swiped the parlor for EMF. When he caught Sam’s eye, he shook his head.

Sam quickly wrapped up with the officer and joined Dean a little too the side of everyone. “So no EMF?”

Dean shook his head again. “Nothing. No hexbags, no creepy trails of goo or slime or anything else monsters leave behind.”

They thought in silence for a moment, Sam hesitant to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Er, ice cream parlor.

“So maybe I was wrong.”

Sam gaped. He wasn’t proud of it, but he gaped. Even worse than when Dean had declared he was always right. Catching-flies-with-your-mouth gaping. He knew he looked ridiculous but holy. Shit.

Dean just admitted he might be wrong.

“... What?” 

Dean glared. “You heard me, I’m not repeating it.” He huffed with what Sam called a pout and Dean called just his face. “Get over it.”

“Agents?”

Sam snapped his mouth shut, the stunned moment broken by the young cop hovering nearby. “Y-yes?”

The young cop jerked a finger behind him. “We thought you might like to see this?”

He was right. They did want to see that.

“Is that a--?”

“Yeah.”

“And is it--?”

“Yeah.”

“The other ones, are they also--?”

“Yeah.”

“So this is--?”

“Yeah.”

They fell silent, no more words, no other thoughts. The cop still hovering nearby, bewildered and scared, with no more answers than they had.

Dean broke the silence in his patented way. “Something tells me we’re going to need more than a couple of spoons.” A bad joke.

It pulled Sam from his flabbergasted staring though, and he let the air rush from his lungs in a long whoosh. He had no idea what to do.

“It’s like a game of Mikado.”

Dean snorted. “And you say I make terrible jokes.”

“You do make terrible jokes.”

“Shut up.”

Sam started circling the simply mindboggling scene in front of them. “Are they-- **cuddling**?”

‘They’ were in fact June Williams, Matthew Garret, the new missing teen, and what the state police had described as a cat-like creature. They were sleeping, chests all going up and down calmly. And they were indeed cuddling. All three kids were smiling like the cat that got the canary, one of their hands clutched in the creature’s-- fur? skin? ice cream?!

“Dean, is that-- Is it made of--?”

Dean had started circling from the other end, but was now standing over the mess of tangled limbs with one arm outstretched, holding a spoon. When Sam addressed him, he flushed guiltily. “Just one taste?”

In the end, Dean did get his taste, but not after they had carefully extracted the three kids from the creature. Miraculously, the creature hadn’t woken up until they had started the ring of fire around it and set it ablaze. It hadn’t growled or roared or threatened like they expected, but instead had cried. A sad wailing sound that made even Dean uncomfortable. The three kids had wailed too, begging the cops and Sam and Dean to let it go, that it didn’t mean any harm, and that they would never taste ice cream like it again.

Dean spent the rest of the night making any lewd joke about eating out he could think of.

The creature had melted and the kids had cleared up the rest of the story. Well, as far as they could. Sam managed to sort of gather it had been a spell of sorts; there was an old lady involved, a ghoul on a leash, and some enchanted ice cream. Sam was just glad there hadn’t been any deaths.

They got back to their motel room around 6am. Sam immediately dropped on his bed with an exhausted sigh. “Next time there’s an ice cream ghoul roaming the town we’re in, don’t wake me. Just-- eat it or something.”

He realised his mistake **just** a beat too late. He could practically **hear** the smirk growing on Dean’s face.

“That’s what she said.”


End file.
